Cheshire
by Amadea
Summary: Theodore Nott had the nastiest grin Draco had ever seen. It was the kind of grin that could keep a boy up nights. TN/DM.
1. Chapter 1

Cheshire

Theodore Nott had the nastiest grin Draco had ever seen. It was the kind of grin that pulled back wide at the corners, one side curling up in a leering snarl. It was the kind of grin that could keep a boy up nights. Combined with Theodore's narrow, clever eyes and biting asides, he was trouble.

Theodore also had this bad habit of chewing on ice, and one day so late into the spring it was almost summer, he sat across from Draco in the Great Hall. He tipped his glass back, shaking the last slippery chip of ice into his mouth. He let it peep out from between his lips, a translucent little cube, before swallowing it whole. He grinned at Draco.

"Any plans for the summer, Malfoy?" he said.

Draco wiped his mouth with his napkin. "I'll be spending it at the manor."

When Draco didn't elaborate, Theodore said, "Are you going to invite me?"

Draco straightened the spoon still lying beside his plate. "Well, I don't think our fathers are on the best of terms."

"I didn't say you had to invite my father." Theodore propped an elbow on the table and leaned in. "Did I."

"You just want to beat me at wizard's chess again," Draco pointed out. "I remember the last time you were there." It had been years ago. Before they'd even started at Hogwarts.

Theodore's gaze was level. "I do like games."

Draco sighed. "Just send an owl beforehand."

"Is that an invitation?"

"Yes. Sure." Draco creased his napkin and tucked it along the underside of his plate. "You're cordially invited."

"Your tone doesn't sound very cordial," Theodore pointed out. "But I accept."

::0::

The end of the school year closed without much ado, which suited Draco just fine. He was happy to finish out his classes, pack away his textbooks as he finished with them, and spend the late afternoon hours seeing how far around the Black Lake he could walk before getting devastatingly bored. After Theodore had invited himself to Malfoy Manor, Draco supposed he might have seen him more around campus, but he didn't, not really. He didn't even see much of him on the train home, though they did pass in the hall and Theodore jerked his chin in greeting…but didn't say anything.

Returning home to Malfoy Manor was not the great boon it might once have been. After the bustle of Hogwarts' halls, Draco found the manor felt large and empty, despite being able to hear his mother reorganizing the closets upstairs. He took to playing the piano—badly, half-heartedly—in the hopes of rehabilitating his childhood talent with the thing. This pleased his mother to no end, but Lucius had walked by and slapped him upside the head more than once when he'd spent too long butchering a piece.

Draco spent two weeks doing this, wondering vaguely whether Theodore had been joking when he'd asked for an invite to the manor. Draco could never really tell farce from fact when Nott grinned the way he did. All the same, his questions were answered when not long after, an unfamiliar owl came with an envelope addressed to Draco ribboned to its leg.

_Draco,_

_I hope summertime is treating you the way you deserve—whether that is good or bad, that's between you and the good Lord. Summer is treating me very poorly indeed, but only because I've been visiting extended family in America. It should come as no surprise that since moving there, a third of them have become morbidly obese and the rest are just morbidly stupid._

_I saw Astoria Greengrass at the depot and she asked after you. I think she quite fancies your peaky features. _

_T.N._

_P.S. Is the invitation still open?_

Draco pulled out a quill and a scroll of parchment and took to penning his reply.

_Theodore,_

_I'm sure your relatives were overwhelmed with joy to have you there, given your charming nature and your high regard. I can't speak to their obesity, but I would point out that genetics more than geographical location has to do with levels of stupidity. If I wanted to put even finer a point on it, I might remind you that whatever runs in your family—extended or otherwise—runs in you. _

_When you say "peaky," I think you actually mean "classically refined." Hate to be a nitpick._

_And yes, the invitation is still open._

_Draco Malfoy_

Draco sealed the envelope, attached it to the leg of the owl, and sent it on its way.


	2. Chapter 2

Cheshire

Draco was pretending to practice his piano-playing, but really his primary activity was wondering when Theodore would actually show up. They'd agreed on a date and time for Theodore to come to the manor, and it had already passed an hour ago. So Draco was fudging his way through an upsettingly simple piece of music, craning his head to see out the window. He leapt from his seat when he saw a reedy figure on a broom coming in for a landing.

A moment later, the doorbell rang and Draco opened the door to reveal a grinning Theodore on the other side. This time the grin was not quite so nasty.

"Hello," Theodore said cheerily.

"You're late," Draco pointed out, but stood back so that Theodore might come in.

"I know. I realized how terribly rude it would be to come bearing no gifts." Theodore lifted a bouquet of colorful flowers that Draco was surprised he hadn't noticed before. "So I stopped to get some."

"You brought me flowers?"

"They're for your mother, you nitwit." Theodore squinted at him. Then, "I heard the piano. Do you play?"

"Badly."

"Excellent. What have you been working on?"

"Mozart. Let me show you." Draco slid into the piano bench, counted aloud, and then launched into a stilted rendition of _Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. _

"Oh, yes," Theodore said, using his free hand to conduct. "Marvelous. You really should be more forthcoming about this talent of yours. I can think of at least three Gryffindors who would love to hear this."

Draco finished the song—badly—and rose to take a bow. "Do you play?" he asked.

"Yes, but it would be rude of me to show you up so soon into our visit."

"That's very polite of you," Draco said dryly.

"Is there someplace I can put these flowers? I'm used to just handing them off."

"Follow me; there's a vase in the kitchen," Draco said, closing the key cover on the piano.

"So the manor is how I remember it," Theodore said as they walked through the house to the kitchen. "Except—and I genuinely don't mean to be rude when I say this—the gardens are more overgrown than I remember."

"Right. That's because my father fired the groundskeeper last month and hasn't bothered to hire a new one yet. He will soon, but I heard my mother talking to him about building my character, so I fear they might enlist me to do it."

"Building your character?"

"Yes. Apparently it's weak."

"You do seem to stay indoors a lot."

"Hardly _my _fault—they room us in the bloody dungeons at Hogwarts. It's become habit. Here's the vase."

"Excellent. Now what?"

"Err…I think just put them in with some water?" Draco suggested. He turned on the faucet and filled the vase, but when they went to put the flowers in, they splayed out awkwardly, much too tall for the jar.

Theodore regarded them with a sigh and a curled lip. "It seems they should be trimmed."

Draco found two knives, handed Theodore half the bouquet, and told him to take a bit off the bottom of the stalks. Ten minutes later, the boys discovered that hearty flowers were difficult to saw through with kitchen knives, and five minutes after that they discovered they'd both cut them different lengths—Draco had sheared off one inch, while Theodore had taken off two.

"Oh, sweet Merlin," Theodore said, the two of them standing back to look at the now-lopsided, gnarled bouquet. "Let's please throw them out before your mother even sees them. I've never done something so poorly in my life."

"My mother could have done it in no time," Draco said in awe.

"Women have to be so accomplished to get through the day."

::0::

An hour later found the boys sitting across from one another at the small table in the living room, a chess set laid out between them. Theodore, chin in hand, was contemplating his next move while Draco waited. Finally, he poked a pawn in the back until it took a step forward, and then, yawning, said, "What is it you do when I'm not around?"

"Are you bored?" Draco asked mildly, and Theodore shrugged one shoulder.

"I'm just wondering. My family lives in the city, where there are other signs of life."

"It is kind of quiet."

"Even your chess pieces are lethargic," Theodore pointed out, prodding a knight in the back.

"Why don't you play something on the piano, then?" Draco suggested, only slightly offended.

"You won't like what I play."

"Why do you say that?"

Theodore grinned his nasty grin. "Because I only like dirty Muggle music."

Draco didn't know whether it was the grin or the comment about Muggles that sent a little peak of adrenaline through him. "Disgusting. Play it anyway."

Theodore pushed back from the chess table and sauntered toward the piano like a cat, circling it once before slipping onto the bench. He made a show of cracking his fingers, twisting his neck, and poising his hands over the keys.

Draco didn't really know what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't the energetic, key-pounding frenzy Theodore launched into. His leg pumped in time to the music, but then suddenly he stood up so forcefully the piano bench went skidding backwards and he leaned into the keys.

"_Well I said come over baby we got chicken in the barn_," Theodore yowled. "_Come over baby—babe we got the bull by the horn. We ain't fakin'! Whole lot of shakin' goin' on!_"

Draco covered his mouth with both hands and continued to listen in horror. Not long after, Theodore finished with a bang and turned toward Draco. His hair was ruffled from whipping his head back and forth, and his cheeks were flushed.

"Well?" he said after a moment.

"Is all Muggle music about barnyard animals?"

"Rude." Theodore shook his head.

"I'm not at all familiar with that—clearly with good reason—what was it?"

"Jerry Lee Lewis. Fifties rock and roll. Have you ever heard of The King?"

"George?"

"Elvis."

"Is he another Muggle? You should know better than to ask."

"_You _should know better." Theodore took a step toward Draco, his eyes suddenly darker than they were before.

Draco looked away. "So you saw Astoria at the depot?"

Theodore looked momentarily slapped awake. He wet his lips. "Yeah. Yes."

"Did she look well?"

"You know Astoria; she always looks well."

"Do you want to go outside?" Draco said suddenly. "We could race our brooms. I'll win."

"That's all right. I'm still better at piano than you are, whether you like the music or not."

"Except for the fact that I could have played that song by putting my face on the keys and rolling it back and forth, I'm sure you're right."

Theodore grinned.

::0::


End file.
